23. Felicity
FELICITY
Iheard every word.
Every single one.
The senator’s son.
Federal officials.
Alive.
Worth a fortune.
The words kept echoing through my head while I stood upstairs gripping the kitchen counter hard enough my fingers hurt.
I should’ve run.
That thought kept repeating too.
Not because I wanted to leave Hersh.
God no.
Because staying was going to destroy him.
Rain battered the apartment windows while voices carried faintly from downstairs.
Low.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
Ranger voices.
The kind men used before violence.
My chest tightened harder.
Because Vaughn finally understood something terrible:
The Rangers weren’t handing me over.
Not to the cartel.
Not to corrupt officials.
Not to anybody.
And men like Vaughn knew exactly what happened when Rangers decided somebody belonged under their protection.
A knock sounded softly against the wall.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Hersh.
Always Hersh.
I closed my eyes briefly before whispering:
“This is bad.”
He stepped next to me.
The second he saw my face, his expression changed instantly.
Softened.
Concerned.
“Hey.”
That one word almost broke me all over again.
I laughed shakily under my breath.
“You say that like it fixes everything.”
“Sometimes it does.”
God.
How was this man still capable of sounding gentle after threatening murder downstairs five minutes ago?
Because I heard that too.
Maybe. But you’re definitely dying first.
And the terrifying part?
I believed him completely.
Hersh crossed the room slowly.
Carefully.
Like he thought I might bolt.
Honestly?
I almost had.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered suddenly.
His brow furrowed immediately.
“For what?”
“For this.”
I gestured helplessly toward the windows.
The storm.
The danger.
The cartel.
Everything.
“You shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”
Something fierce flashed across his face instantly.
“No.”
“Hersh—”
“No, Flick.”
The sharpness in his voice stopped me cold.
He stepped closer.
“This doesn’t become your fault because bad people make bad choices.”
Emotion climbed painfully into my throat.
“You heard him downstairs.”
“Yeah.”
“They’ll come after you now.”
His jaw tightened once.
“Already figured that out.”
Fear clawed up my chest hard enough to hurt.
“Why are you acting like that doesn’t matter?”
That finally stopped him.
For one long second he just looked at me.
Then quietly?—
“Because losing you mattered more.”
Oh God.
My eyes burned instantly.
“Hersh…”
He exhaled roughly before dragging one hand through his hair.
“You know what the funny thing is?”
I shook my head.
“That bastard downstairs thinks he scared me.”
Thunder rolled outside.
Hersh stepped closer again.
Close enough I could feel the warmth coming off him.
“He didn’t.”
My pulse stumbled hard.
“Flick…” His voice lowered. “I spent sixteen years thinking I lost you already.”
Pain hit me straight in the chest.
“Do you know what that did to me?”
The question shattered something inside me because suddenly I realized?—
I never asked.
I never asked what those years did to him.
Hersh leaned one hand against the counter beside me.
“I went through Ranger school angry as hell.”
His eyes stayed locked on mine now.
“Every deployment after that got easier because combat was simpler than thinking about you.”
My breath caught painfully.
“Hersh…”
“I got this scar in Kandahar.”
His fingers brushed lightly near the mark along his jaw.
“IED hit our convoy.” A faint humorless smile touched his mouth. “Doc said I was lucky.”
But his eyes told another story.
Not lucky.
Haunted.
“I remember lying in that hospital thinking…” He swallowed once. “At least there’s nobody back home waiting for me.”
Oh God.
The tears came instantly.
Because he believed that.
For years.
And I had believed he stopped loving me.
Two lives destroyed by lies.
“I waited for you too,” I whispered brokenly.
His eyes closed briefly.
Like hearing that still physically hurt.
“I know.”
No.
Not enough.
Not yet.
My hands shook as I reached for him this time.
Not the other way around.
Me.
Choosing him.
“Hersh…”
His eyes lifted immediately.
Always immediately.
And finally?—
finally—
I told him the truth that had lived inside me since I was nineteen years old.
“I was going to marry you too.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The storm outside disappeared.
The room disappeared.
Everything disappeared except his face.
Because Hersh McDougal looked like I’d just reached into his chest and stopped his heart with my bare hands.
His breathing actually faltered.
“You were?”
The broken hope in his voice nearly broke me.
I nodded through tears.
“I already picked my dress.”
The sound that left him after that wasn’t even a laugh.
It was grief.
Pure grief.
He grabbed me fast then.
Both arms wrapping around me like he physically couldn’t stand any distance between us anymore.
I held him just as tightly.
And downstairs?—
Eric Vaughn finally started screaming.